Things Made Of Nightmares
by frozenangel1988
Summary: Warren Peace is plagued with his father's murderous reputation. Warren is determined to be a good person, but that is not what others have planned for him. Will he give in to his destiny or will he forge his own path of fire? Eventually Warren/OC...
1. Chapter 1: A Retrospective Morning

Hey everyone. I didn't feel like studying for my final exams, so I figured it might be time for me to submit a fanfiction. So, my plans for this story aren't really fleshed out completely yet. I sort of want to show the vulnerability of a teenager, through the character of Warren. How he became to be the badass we know from the film. The rating may go up in a bit. I have a tendency to shift tenses, so if you catch any, let me know, since I'd like this to be written in past tense. Reviews are welcome. May take a bit for the story to get interesting, but stay with me. :D

Brittanie aka frozenangel1988

Things Made of Nightmares

A Retrospective Morning

The young boy groaned at his alarm clock. It was way too early. Freshman year. At the oh-so-great Sky High. He had tried to convince his mother to send him somewhere else since she refused to bind his powers, somewhere where his father's reputation wouldn't be known. But nope. She was adamant. Her son, Warren Peace, would attend Sky High just like all the other Peaces before him since the school was built.

With another groan, the fifteen year old kicked off the light sheet covering his boxer-clad body. Normally, he'd instantly turn up his body heat and get up slowly, but today he needed the cold to shock his system into action. Most people thought that pyrokinetics hated cold. It was probably true, but Warren didn't know many other pyrokinetics, other than his father, but he hadn't seen him in years. Warren strangely loves the cold. It made him feel alive. Forget, even if it was temporary, that he was just human. He could pretend that he wasn't just a swirling body of fire, but a living, breathing, human.

Standing, Warren stretched as he made his way over to his full length mirror on the back of his closet. He liked what he saw, until he remembered that he would probably, one day soon, resemble his father. The criminal. But that day was not today. Today he was just Warren. A slightly scared so-to-be freshman. His naturally tan body had begun to show signs of the workout regiment he started in the summer. He smiled at his reflection, his deep mahogany eyes echoing his father still. Warren was thankful that he had inherited his mother's straight almost black hair, instead of his father's curly mass.

Another wave of cold washed in through his open window, jerking him out of his early morning reverie. Cracking open his closet, he extracted a new band shirt he got a few weeks ago at his first concert. Machine Head. That'll do. Perfect mindset for the day. He wrenched his head through the shirt hole, his back now emblazoned with the words "No Fucking Regrets". Pants. Now for pants. Jeans. Yes, his father hated jeans. Warren loved them. He pulled on a faded blue pair that was already crumpled on the carpet, threading a thin studded belt through the loops. With one last glance in the mirror and the decision not to brush his bed ridden long locks, Warren grabbed a worn leather book bag and bound down the steps into the kitchen to see his mother.

She was small. Always beautiful, yet broken. Her heavy lidded green eyes were still laced with sleep. She looked up when her son entered the room. A faint smile shot across her lips, gone in an instant. Her right hand, that held a half smoked cigarette, pointed to the full coffee maker. She knew her son loved coffee.

"Thanks mom." Warren plopped his bag down as he fiddled around in the cabinets in search for a portable coffee mug. Finding a red travel mug, he poured the precious liquid in, adding three sugars and a touch of creamer.

"Have a good day, sweetie." His mother's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but he knew to listen for it. He kissed her on the cheek.

"I will. I'll see you later." Warren fixed the top on his mug, snatched his bag, and ran out the front door to the bus stop. There were already a small group of students there. He waited for the bus against a tree, pulling out his iPod and plugging his ears with his headphones. He pushed play just at the bus rolled up. Stepping foot onto the bus, he knew he would do everything he could not to repeat the nightmare that had been Baron Battle. He wasn't Baron Battle. He was Warren Peace.


	2. Chapter 2: The First Explosion

Chapter Two

The First Explosion

Warren tried his best not to collapse onto the ground once the bus touched the flying platform that was Sky High. Even though Warren loved coasters, a flying school bus bas a bit too much to wake up to, especially when it was driven by a nut named Ron Wilson. He looked around him. The rest of the freshman were following a pair of older teens, probably overachieving seniors. It seemed as if some of the freshman already had friends. People they grew up with. Warren himself had never had a friend. No supers would let their kids play with a murderer's son and his mother refused to allow normal kids over because of the unstable nature of Warren's power.

Warren shuffled behind the group, hearing snippets of the conversation.

"And there's this game called Save The Citizen. You guys'll love it."

"So, just try to not go near the edge of school, some people have been known to fall off."

"There is not pool on the roof of the school. That's just a prank some use to fuck with freshman. I mean, mess with. You're not really allowed to curse in school."

He tightened the grip on his book bag as they entered the hallway. Lockers lined the blue walls. Streamers flanked the corners. Older students were milling around, finding their lockers, catching up after a summer away from their friends. The still unnamed seniors led the freshman through a pair of orange double doors.

The gym.

A man with really short shorts, wielding a clipboard as if it was his greatest weapon stood in the center of the gym on a platform. He surveyed the crowded.

"Well, a new group of whiner babies, I see. Normally, Principal Powers would be here to great you, give you a witty pep talk about equality between heroes and hero support, BUT NOT TODAY YOU BABIES!" He yelled, knocking the hat off of a kid standing near the front. "I am Coach Boomer. You may call me only that. During my hero days, I was known as Sonic Boom…" Warren began the block out the babbling of the man in the short shorts. His fellow freshman seemed to be doing the same. The man just kept going on and on. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he looked down at his clipboard and called out a name.

"Toast, Thomas." Boomer looked back down at his clipboard. "Seriously? You're last name is Toast?"

The boy who's hat had been a victim of Coach Boomer's voice hopped up on stage. Thomas Toast had a strange boxy frame, short, shorter than all of the freshman girls. His burnt yellow hair stuck out from underneath his hat.

"Power? Do I even need to ask?" Boomer sounded bored.

"I turn into bread, sir." Thomas Toast sounded dejected.

"Bread? Not even toast?"

"Nope. Haven't figured out how to burn myself yet without getting hurt. My dad can do it."

"Show us, boy." Boomer hugged his clipboard. With a flash of light, Thomas Toast literally turned into a piece of bread, wearing a red baseball cap.

"SIDEKICK!" Boomer yelled. "Change back, Toast, before I get hungry." Boomer scanned the crowd for his next victim. He smirked as his eyes fell on a kid that looked like he really didn't want to be there. Warren.

"You. Kid with the long hair and the frown. Get your butt up here." Warren looked around, hoping that there was another long-haired boy among the freshman. No such luck. Letting out a deep breath, he dropped his bag where he stood and ran over to the platform, figuring if he showed he was eager, Boomer might not rip him a new one. Coach Boomer looked Warren over. They were the same height. Before he could help it, Warren spit out his first thought.

"Nice shorts, Coach." An uncomfortable laughter filtered through the crowd. Boomer raised his eyebrows, a slight tinge of pink in his cheeks.

"I see we have a smartass. I don't like smartasses. Name?"

"Warren Peace." He mumbled, shoving his hands in his back pockets.

"Peace? As in the son of Amy Peace and Baron Battle?" Boomer's voice was uncharacteristically low.

"Yeah." Warren looked down at his boots, wishing he had the power on invisibility.

"Alright then. So, power?" Warren's gaze fell upon a beautiful blonde girl in the crowd. Her green eyes fixed on his. She smiled. He smirked at her before looking back at Boomer.

"I'm a pyrokinetic." His voice came out stronger than he expected. Boomer pulled out a remote from his shorts, how the shorts had pockets, Warren did not know.

"Car."

It happened so quick, Warren couldn't even process what he was doing. A green car fell from the ceiling. He saw it as if it was falling in slow motion. With a deep breath, he summoned a ball of fire and aimed for the gas tank. His eyes widened as a wall of fire engulfed the car, exploding, sending both Boomer and Warren flying off of the platform. A burst of laughter escaped Warren's mouth as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"Damn. That was cool." Warren continued to laugh, getting louder with each chuckle. Boomer looked at fire-wielding freshman from where he had landed. A look of fear crossed Boomer's face, vanishing quickly, but enough to silence Warren's laughter. The other students looked stunned, some slightly smoking from car bits that had flown their way. Boomer stood, looking at the wreckage Warren had caused. There wasn't much of the car left. Shaking his head and returning to the platform, Warren could see that Boomer was struggling to speak.

"I knew I should have taken the gas out of that car."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make it explode." He dusted some of the ash off of his jeans.

"It's okay, kid. Just don't do it again. Last thing I need is to have to explain to Principal Powers that some of my freshman got barbequed on the first day."

"Sorry."

"Yeah yeah." Boomer looked back down at his clipboard. "Guess you're going to be a hero, Peace."


	3. Chapter 3: Friends?

So, I really don't feel like working on my final exams, so I felt like writing more. Reviews are welcome. If you catch any mistakes with tense, characters, or whatever, let me know. I'm still getting used to posting a story on this site. :D

Brittanie

Chapter 3

Friends?

After the shock from Warren's explosion settled, Coach Boomer sped up Power Placement in an attempt to get away from the smell of molten metal, surprisingly finishing before lunch. Few powers were memorable. The pretty girl that caught Warren's eye was a cryokinetic named Crystal Snow. Another kid, Sammy Critters, made it rain frogs. The result was hilarious. Screaming freshman girls batting frogs out of their hair was enough to nearly erase the horror of the explosion. Most freshman ended up on the sidekick track due to Coach Boomer's bad mood, yelling at them in his sonic voice to disperse into the lunch room after they got their new schedules.

Warren settled himself at an empty lunch table and scanned his schedule.

Freshman Hero Homeroom. 8:35-8:55. Room 212. Ms. Sanders.

Hero History. 9:00-9:45. Room 212. Ms. Sanders.

Mad Science Lecture. 9:50-10:35. Room 104. Mr. Medulla.

Mad Science Lab. 10:40-12:00. Room 104. Mr. Medulla.

Lunch. 12:05-12:30. Cafeteria.

The Philosophy of Being a Hero. 12:35-1:20. Room 301. Ms. Hanslet.

Practical Power Usage. 1:20-2:20. Gym. Mr. Boomer.

Study Hall. 2:20-3:00. Library.

Relatively content with his schedule, Warren pulled out his sketchbook, sticking his schedule in the front before turning to a blank page. He extracted a pencil from his book bag and began drawing an icicle engulfed in flames. Focused on his sketch, he didn't notice that his table had grown by two people until a straw wrapper became entangled in his hair.

"What the fuck?" He looked up to see two older students with wide grins sitting across from him with lunch trays full of sweets. One was sort of chubby wearing a black button down shirt while the other was painfully thin in a striped white a black shirt. The chubby one spoke first.

"You the freshman that nearly torched Boomer?" The chubby one bit into a cookie, staring at Warren.

"If you mean am I the freshman that accidentally blew up a car next to Boomer, then yeah, that's me." Warren didn't even want to think about the possible outcomes if the explosion had been bigger. The stripped boy held up his right hand, clearly wanting to high five Warren. Warren obliged, not sure why these two were sitting with him.

"Cool as shit man. You got balls, freshie. I'm Lash." He nodded toward his chubby companion. "This is Speed. We're sophomores. You stick with us and we'll take care of you."

"Umm…" Warren wasn't really sold on the 'take care of you' offer. "Alright…I guess." He tried to smile away his awkward feeling and returned to sketching.

"You got a name, freshie? All the rumor said was that a long haired freshie nearly torched Boomer." Speed's tray of sweets was already empty.

"Warren Peace."

A twizzler fell out of Lash's mouth.

"Wait? You're Baron Battle's kid.?"

"Umm…yeah." Warren braced himself for the older boys to call him a freak and walk away. He didn't expect them to be impressed.

"Dude! That is so cool! Your dad was a badass mo' fo'!" Lash leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "So, being the kid of a super villain and all, you got any plans to take over this school or a bank or something? We'd so be down for helping you! Right, Speed?"

"Yeah. We'd so want to help. We got skills kid. Mad skills." Speed looked like a cat that just caught a canary. Sadly, that canary came in the shape of a Warren.

"Well, um. I don't know. I mean. Fuck. I don't even really know my dad really. He was kind of an asshole. I really have no connection with him, only really my power. I don't know if I really want to be Baron Battle junior." Words simply just vomited out of Warren's mouth. He almost instantly regretted it. He didn't want to be labeled as a villain-to-be, but then again, he wanted friends. He just wasn't sure if Speed and Lash were the friends he wanted.

"Kid, calm down. Don't worry. Villains are sneaky. We get it. You want to sneak up on everyone then, BOOM, roast their asses." Lash reached around and slapped Warren on the back before standing. "Come find us when you want to have some less than legal fun." With that, the two sophomores left Warren alone as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

Warren didn't bother trying to find his locker before heading to The Philosophy of Being A Hero class since he didn't have any books yet. He was the first student the room and made a beeline for a seat in the back. Other freshman trickled in, claiming seats with their newly minted friends. No one sat near Warren, but then again, he hadn't really expected anyone sane to sit near the school's newest arsonist.

A stern woman with gray hair pulled into a tight bun walked into the front of the room, slamming a leather purse on the teacher's desk. She picked up a piece of chalk, writing, seemly oblivious to the screeching sound the new chalk produced, a question on the board. "There is a fine line between hero and villain. How do we define the line?" She placed the chalk delicately back down on the ledge and faced her new class.

"Welcome to The Philosophy of Being a Hero. I am Ms. Amelia Hanslet. In my days of active duty, I was known as The Gavel. My power consists of extreme reasoning. While I was part of Hero Support when I was a student here, I believe that my powers might be the most important tool a hero can have. The ability to read the gray areas of right and wrong."

Every student, Warren included, hung on The Gavel's every word.

"No one really can pin point a singular why a hero turns against society. In this class, we will not define such things as solely hero or solely villain. In this class, you will be asked to put your mind into the minds of others with respect to that person's moral upbringing and events that influenced choices that led such people to be publicly defined as a hero or a villain. By the end of this course, you should have a wider perspective of what drives action. I do not expect you all to be perfect. This course is designed to challenge you. To make you squirm. To make you question the very fiber of your being. Give me all you have and I shall do my best to give you a fixed moral foundation to build yourself upon. Any questions?"

The class was silent. No one had expected to be challenged this much on the first day of Sky High. Everyone just wanted to make friends, solidify themselves into the proper cliques, but this woman was bringing forth their very fears that lay hidden within their minds. What makes a villain? Warren wasn't sure if he wanted to know.


	4. Chapter 4: The First Nightmare

Chapter 4

The First Nightmare

Warren's head hurt. His mind was royally fucked in multiple ways from his philosophy class. A shit ton of homework already rested inside his book bag, waiting for Warren to dive into, but instead, Warren elected to take a nap once he crossed the threshold of his bedroom. Face down on his bed, he fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.

A tree stood in the middle of an empty field. The tree was engulfed in a bright blaze of red, orange, yellow, and white. Black smoke billowed upwards, blocking out the sun. A overwhelming scent of burnt flesh mixed with wood wafted over to the lone figure in the field. It was a wondrous smell. The smell of power gained. Power earned through blood and destruction. Through fire. Beautiful fire. Eating away the tree, creating new black beauty.

A whisper entered the field.

"Warren."

The lone figure snapped around, looking for the source of the smoky voice. There was no one there.

"Warren."

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am." The whisper laughed.

"No."

"Yes."

"No! I am not like you!" The lone figure screamed into the empty, burning field.

"Yes, my son. You are even stronger than I was."

"NO!"

"You will make the world love you. You will make it burn and love you."

"No! I am good!"

"Your true self will prevail, my son. You'll see."

"I will never be like you!"

"Burn more."

The lone figure felt his right arm raise and ignite.

"You are destruction."

"I am destruction."

A knock on the door jerked Warren out of his dream. He was sweating. His arms felt hot, a flame was near the surface. There was another knock on the door.

"Yeah, come in." Warren tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes as he sat up in bed. His hands were shaking.

His mother poked her head through the door. Her long hair was pulled back in a bun. Her face held the hint on makeup.

"I'm heading into work, sweetie." Her voice was flat.

"Okay mom."

"I'll be back late. John wants me to work a double shift since the one of the new waitresses quit already. Don't wait up."

"Okay."

"I'll try to bring you back something sweet."

"Thanks." Warren mumbled before his mother closed the door. He continued to stare at his door, still in shock from the strange dream. He knew the voice from the whisper well. Baron Battle.

So much for a good first day.

Warren shook his head, running his hands through his hair. His fingers got caught in the sweat.

"Eew."

He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks and left his room in favor of a shower. A shower would clear his head. Closing the door behind him after making sure there was a fresh towel on the rack, Warren turned the shower on, temperature at full blast. He undressed, placing his clothes on the toilet. Steam started to fill the small bathroom, letting Warren know that the temperature was ready.

Slipping under the torrent of scalding water, he just stood there, letting the clear liquid beat at his face, his hair helping to obscure his vision. Taking a deep breath, he used both hands to push his hair back over his head. Soon, tears mixed in with the shower water.

His mind was racing with every bead of water.

How could he do this?

How could he go to Sky High?

How could he not follow his father's path?

Was he really destruction?

Why couldn't he have gotten his mother's power?

How could anyone ever love someone that summoned destruction in their hands?

Was it even possible to do some good with fire?

Once his eyes were devoid of tears, Warren finished up his shower. He whipped off the condensation from the small mirror above the sink. He knew everyone would eventually see his reflection as the reflection of someone that would cause pain. All he saw was a scared boy. Warren grabbed the clean towel and dried his face. He needed something to give him courage. He needed something that proved something beautiful can come out of something painful. He looked in the mirror and smiled. He knew the perfect solution.

How the tattoo artist believed he was of age, was a mystery to Warren, but he wasn't going to question it as he sat in the black leather chair in the back of a seedy tattoo shop he found on a random street in Philadelphia. He couldn't get a tattoo in Maxville, there weren't any shops in the upscale suburban metropolis. So, once he dressed, he hopped on a bus to the city with a wad of cash he had been saving from him allowance since he was eight.

A buzzing entered Warren's ears as the old man wielding the tattoo machine neared him.

"You sure you want this, kid? I can't tell you how many times I've tattooed flames on people, but I can tell you that your tattoos will not be unique."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay, kid. Left arm first."

Warren extended his left arm towards the tattoo artist and bit his bottom lip. The tattoo needle pierced the tender flesh on his wrist, spending a jolt of pain up his arm. Soon, the pain was replaced by a cold numbness as the old man moved the needle around, coloring in the flames, his blood fleeing from the area. The minutes slipped away. The coldness enveloped Warren, bringing a look of contentment onto his face. By the time the old man was half done the tattoo on his right arm after completing the one on the left, Warren knew he had found an addiction, a sweet addiction.


	5. Chapter 5: A New Playmate For Peace

AN: So, I struggled a lot over this chapter for some reason. I started three other stories because I was not entirely sure where I wanted to go with this. So, there may not be much action in this chapter, but I needed to get it done to this extent to get it to the next step. Anyway, thanks Mai Ascot for reviewing Chapter 4. I think I'm going to pop up the rating to "M" because of the language and the recent "rule enforcement". But without any further ado, here's chapter 5. Read, enjoy, review. -Brittanie

Chapter 5

A New Playmate for Peace

"You want me to what?" Warren couldn't believe his ears. Lash looked at Warren like he was stupid. He slammed his locker shut after making sure he had all the necessary homework he needed.

"You heard me. We're going to pick you for Save The Citizen tomorrow and you're going to lose."

"But why would I purposely lose?" It just didn't compute in Warren's head.

"Because we know you could probably kick our asses, but freshman rarely picked and none have won, at least we think they haven't."

"Okay? But why me?"

"Speed and me want to start a winning streak. Who better to crush first then a potential fellow villain that is our secret friend? Come on kid, think. You want to be our friend right? Friends do shit for friends." Lash's arm had found its way around Warren's shoulder.

"Um…"

"Come on, freshie."

"Call me freshie again and I'll roast you." Warren was purposely warming up his shoulder, but Lash had yet to take the hint that Warren wasn't too keen on being touched.

"I knew you had some bite to you, kid." Lash was smiling.

"Stop with the fucking pet names and don't pick me again and I'll fucking do it." Warren was getting more angry every second that Lash's arm was touching him.

"Well, I can't promise we won't pick you again in a pinch if one of us needs a partner or to roast an enemy, but you got yourself a deal, fres…I mean…Peace."

"Fine. Now, leave me the fuck alone and get your arm off of me."

"Come on, Peace." Lash was attempting to hid a glint of fear in his eyes as he finally backed away from Warren. "There's no need for the hostility."

"We're not supposed to be friends, Lash." Warren's voice became low as he got closer to the older boy, gripping his book bag in an attempt to not flame up. "You want people to believe that you legitimately beat me and that I didn't go easy on you like some people do when they are pitted against their friends. We are not friends. Got it." Lash looked down at his feet before meeting Warren's eyes.

"You got it, Peace."

An idea popped in Warren's head as soon as Lash was a few lockers away. He didn't want other villain-to-be students to approach him. He needed to come off as crazier than the others. He needed to seem like he wasn't someone you wanted to work with. He did want friends but not of the majority of the school population would see him as just a toy for the less than moral students. He needed to break down his relationships with the other students into fear and hatred. Lash was his first target.

"Good luck, pussy." He yelled after Lash. Lash stopped in his tracks. Other students around him just froze, staring at the daring fire-wielding freshman. Warren started to walk towards the buses, just waiting for the older boy's retort.

"What the hell did you just say to me?"

"You heard me." The two boys were face to face. "I called you a pussy, or do you have a hearing problem as well as being a coward."

"Fuck Save the Citizen. Let's settle this now, little boy."

Lash pushed Warren backwards with his elastic arms, not putting much strength behind the act. Warren was warming up his left hand and was about to pelt the annoying sophomore with a fireball when he felt his hand go cold, followed closely by his arm getting cold and a small amount of pressure bringing his attention down to his malfunctioning hand. There was another hand encircled in his. His eyes followed the arm upwards and met the gaze of Crystal Snow, the cryokinetic.

"What the fuck!"

"He's not worth it. You don't want to end up in detention." Her voice was liquid velvet, instantly cooling Warren's temper. His mind wasn't really functioning. He was too focused on her, forgetting that there was an angry older boy a few feet away.

"Come on, Peace. Let's settle this shit, now."

"Oh shut up, you asshole." Crystal responded before Warren could open his mouth. She pulled Warren down the hallway and outside to the buses.

"Um."

"He's just an asshole. My sister Avey dated him last year. Don't let him bother you." Her small hand was still in Warren's, letting off a small amount of cool arm.

"Um. Okay." They had boarded the bus, sitting in the back, staring at each other, not sure what to say as they waited for the other freshman to make their way on.

"So…"

"So…"

"Yeah…"

"That homework Medulla gave us is quite a dozy. Can't believe we have a test on Friday." Her thumb moved in slow circles on the top of Warren's hand.

"Yeah, I almost wish I was a sidekick. They get less homework."

"Bullshit. You're too smart and talented to be a sidekick, Warren."

He could feel his cheeks turning red as he continued to look at their hands. It was strange. No one other than his mother would touch him voluntarily, yet this beautiful girl wouldn't let go. It felt nice. It was as if she was the missing puzzle piece in his life.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. So, do you want to study for the test?" She smiled, sending butterflies he didn't know existed in his stomach into action.

"Su..sure." He stuttered.

"Awesome. I know this great Chinese place we can go to. The Paper Lantern."

"Never heard of it." The bus had filled up and Ron Wilson started the engine.

"You'll like it."

"I'm sure I will."


	6. Chapter 6: The Little Lessons

AN: Been a while, huh? Anyway, didn't feel like doing my War and Peace reading, so I rationalized it by updating on my rendition of Warren Peace. Stretching it a bit? Probably. Short chapter, but whatever. This may get me off my ass to do more. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 6

The Little Lessons

"So…"

"So…"

The conversation between the two teenagers in one of the back booths of The Paper Lantern was anything but comfortable. Both wanted to speak, express something, but neither knew exactly what that something was let alone how to put it into words. Their wonton sour had been already devoured before either could gather up the syllables to break the awkward silence, but it wasn't the stuttering Warren to speak.

"So, what happened between you and Lash?" Crystal looked up at Warren as she delicately sipped on her small cup of tea.

"Oh…um…nothing really." He swirled his own cup of tea with the spoon the waiter had provided him.

"Bullshit." Her teacup still resting upon her bottom lip, her words barely audible.

"Sorry?" Warren blinked.

"That's bullshit. If nothing happened then you would have been trying to burn Lash for no reason, but you're not that type of person so something happened. Speak, Warren."

"Um…well…"

"Come on. I won't bite."

Warren could feel the heat rushing into his cheeks, not heat produced by his power.

"He wanted me to lose to him in Save the Citizen. He said that's what a friend would do."

"And are you?"

"Am I what?"

"His friend."

"Um…I…uh…I don't know."

"You don't seem to be very sure about that."

Right then the waiter returned with their orders of chicken and broccoli. Both promptly thanked the overworked waiter and Warren stabbed his chopsticks into a piece of thin brown chicken before popping it into his mouth.

"Do you not know how to use chopsticks?" Crystal had placed a piece of broccoli in between the two wooden instruments, poising it in front of her lips, staring at her fellow diner.

"Nope. Never tried." The blonde's eyes widened with shock, as if it was the most ludicrous thing she had heard all week.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"I am. Sorry." Her eyes softened at Warren's quiet admission.

"No need to be sorry, you poor deprived child."

"I am not a child."

"Oh, shush. Here." She reached across the table to his hand, instantly flooding his body with coldness. She loosed his fist that was around the chopstick and placed his fingers in a position that he did not know he was capable of. He felt like they were about to either slip from his fingers or break in half.

"Now try. Like this." Crystal guided his fingers to a stalk of broccoli. "Now, move the sticks apart just a little bit then clasp the food lightly, but try to keep the sticks in the same position." He did as she told and surprised himself by successfully getting the yummy broccoli into his mouth without having to stab it.

"Dude."

"Learn something new every day, huh?"

"Seems like it."

"All you needed was a little help."

Crystal smiled before digging back into her own food, keeping an eye on Warren's progress with his own.

When Warren stood in front of the Paper Lantern, watching Crystal Snow walk away, with her phone number now in his phone, he felt happy. Happier than he had since, well, he couldn't remember. Extracting his earphones from his pocket, he started his walk home, the sound of the band As I Lay Dying adding rhythm to his footsteps. It wasn't till he was at his doorstep that he realized that he and Crystal never did study for that upcoming test. With a silent chuckle, he unlocked his door and stepped into the dark house.

Warren navigated his way through the dark to the window in the living room, opening up the blinds to flood the room with light. His mother liked to keep the house way too dark for his own taste. Warren glanced around. The place was a mess. Old newspaper and magazines all over the floor. Unopened mail piling up on the coffee table. His mother's spare work uniform on the couch, underneath Warren's cat Nightshade, a black beauty that he has rescued a few months beforehand from an angry neighbor with way too many animals.

He moved out of the living room into the kitchen, flicking on the fluorescent bulb overhead as he entered the room. The kitchen table held an overflowing ashtray, a half drank cup of now cold coffee, a disconnected white curly cord from their kitchen phone, and residue of his mother's makeup. The sink was overflowing with the week's dishes.

Warren set down his bag on the linoleum floor before gingerly rolling up his sleeves, exposing his still tender tattoos. He turned on the faucet and started looking for a sponge.


End file.
